


Dummy

by Anonymous



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anyway these two are both dumbasses and love each other, Aprons, Cowgirl Position, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Euphemisms, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, How is that not a tag, Humor, Idiots in Love, Innuendo, M/M, Missionary Position, Oblivious, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stupidity, morosexuals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Drake is a morosexual, and as such, can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever Launchpad says or does stupid things.This is PORN, so don't click on this fic if ya ain't here for that.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characterizations are mainly inspired from the '91 cartoon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake is endlessly attracted to LP when he says or does dumb things. And he loves it even more when his big pilot doesn't seem to get that he's coming on to him.
> 
> FYI: This chapter has a lot of dirty descriptions and while sex does happen, the really detailed smut is in Chapter 2.

It was a nice, normal-ish Saturday. Drake had gone to drop Gos off at a birthday party/sleepover at a friend’s house, and after returning home, was now busying himself in the kitchen. Inspired by the idea of birthday cake, he thought it might be nice if he made a nice cake for his family too, and was stirring up the ingredients, staring absent-mindedly out into the yard. 

His partner Launchpad was out there, mowing the grass. It was a hot, dirty, thankless chore, but LP always did it cheerfully and like clockwork, every Saturday afternoon. It was a scorcher today, so he had opted not to wear a shirt, and probably knowing he was just going to get sweaty and dirty, was simply donning a pair of old cutoffs, dingy old sneakers and his trusty, well-worn baseball cap. _Good Lord, he looks like a bum_ , Drake thought, sneering a little as he stirred the cake mix. But his stirring got slower and slower the longer he stared.

_LP…has some muscles on him_ , Drake mused, noting how the shimmering sweat sliding down Launchpad’s chest, biceps and stomach was emphasizing every chiseled outline. It was easy to forget how built he was when he wore all that pilot getup all the time. Sure, he saw him in the nude when they’d make love, of course, but even in that intimate context he often didn’t have time to really appreciate how stunning the pilot was. Those broad shoulders and defined chest, his narrow waist with those sexy rock-hard abs Drake loved to run his fingers up and down…In moments like these, he could admire how beautiful his big pilot was from afar. LP was rounding the bend, heading away from the window, giving Drake a chance to ogle—err, _appreciate_ his muscular behind, which those tight little shorts did very little to hide. When he came back round again, he was slick with sweat, his chest just glistening in the sun. 

Drake wasn’t making _any_ sort of headway on the cake. When Launchpad neared the window, he gave Drake a wink, and Drake, flustered that he’d been caught staring, flailed about and nearly knocked over the mixing bowl. That jolted him awake well enough though, and despite the tempting vision out in the yard, Drake kept on task after that. At least until LP came inside, that is.

“Heya DW, mixin’ up a cake, there?” LP was suddenly in front of him, looking and smelling sweaty, but even though he needed a shower, Drake couldn’t help but lick his lips hungrily, and it had nothing to do with the cake he was making. _Beefcake_ , on the other hand…

“Well, what does it look like, LP?” Drake retorted, trying to draw attention away from how he was just all-out drooling. “The cake’s baking, and now I’m working on the frosting.” LP looked a little confused for a second, maybe because he was trying to think of what the steps even _were_ for making cake, and the pilot’s dopey look just made Drake tingle all over. Although he couldn't deny that he was insanely attracted to Launchpad in an aesthetic sense, the prickling heat now creeping over Drake’s skin had nothing to do with his sidekick’s washboard abs or glistening pecs, and more to do with how there didn’t seem to be a _thing_ going on in that big dopey head of his. 

This wasn’t new. Drake didn’t really know why, but he found LP incredibly hot when he said or did idiotic things. It just… _did_ something to him.

One memorable time, after seeing a commercial on TV, Launchpad had turned to him and asked him very seriously whether or not Chia Pets—no doubt because of the word ‘pets’—needed to be taken on walks, and Drake got so flustered he had to hug a pillow to himself to hide how turned on LP’s remark had made him. Squirming on the couch, Drake had retorted sarcastically that they needed walks just as much as pet rocks did, and LP simply nodded gravely, responding, “Oh, then ya should be sure to do it every day then.” Drake thought he would pass out. Even long after all of the commercials ended, he couldn’t concentrate on the TV show or _really,_ anything _AT ALL_ anymore and could only count down the minutes until he could finally get his big pilot in bed. 

Then another time, Launchpad somehow got the idea that pine trees somehow made pine _APPLES_ and was genuinely disappointed that Christmas trees didn’t make the fruit. They were at a neighbor’s holiday party and his off-handed comment got Drake so hot he had no choice but to excuse himself, splashing himself with water in a desperate effort to cool himself down in a near-stranger’s bathroom. Launchpad probably had no idea why, but Drake couldn’t help but throw himself at him as soon as they got home. His big idiot definitely got it _good_ that night. 

Those types of stupid remarks were amazingly sexy and provoked Drake to no end, but it was somehow even HOTTER in one very specific context: whenever LP seemed to not get it, AT ALL, when Drake was flirting or coming on to him. Trying to get LP to FINALLY realize what he wanted—i.e., for the pilot to give him some good, hot loving—was the best and worst kind of torture, and it quickly became one of Drake’s absolute _favorite_ games.

After seeing Launchpad all slick and sexy now, with his ripped-up jeans and no shirt, Drake was eager to play today, too. He stuck a finger in the frosting he was stirring, and staring deep into Launchpad’s eyes, he slowly slid the finger in his mouth, sliding it up all the way to the knuckle, then started sucking loudly, wetly lapping up the sugary sweetness. LP just stared at him, wide-eyed. Drake added another finger, and deepthroated that one just as hungrily as the first. 

“Haha, ya’d better cut it out, DW, or there won’t be enough frosting for the cake,” Launchpad said, grinning.

_Don’t you get how this might symbolize…something **else,** LP?_ Drake thought, feeling that familiar flush of frustration and simultaneous scorching desire bloom under his collar. 

“Well, LP, who needs frosting when there’s _something ELSE_ I’d like to lick even more…” And he gave his fingers a couple more loud, indecent slurps, and licked _sloooowly_ up their length, shooting his big idiot pilot a sexy stare. _Does this REMIND you of anything, hmm? Think about it, you dummy._

LP just gaped at him with an innocent, airheaded expression. “Well, if yer still wantin’ some sweets, I guess there’s ice cream in the freezer, DW,” he said, shrugging, and he walked out of the kitchen, tight ass swaying as he left. 

_Oh DAMMIT, LP,_ Drake thought, but his face was just burning as he watched him leave, and he may have let out a tiny moan or two as he involuntarily squeezed his thighs together.

He thought he’d continue their flirty little game— _not that LP knew they were even playing it_ —a bit later after the cake was done and LP was watching TV. Launchpad had taken a shower by then and had changed into a T-shirt and some soft-looking workout shorts he wore lounging around in sometimes. He was slouched on one side of the couch, and so Drake made a point of walking right in front of him, and stopping dead in his tracks, bent over so far that he was nearly touching his toes. To really get his point across, he then sexily arched his back so that LP could get a good, close look at his bare ass and his wagging tail feathers. 

_How do you like that? What do you think I want, LP? It’s gotta be PLENTY obvious._ Drake smirked at the floor.

Behind him, Drake heard LP’s breath hitch a little— _JACKPOT,_ Drake thought, grinning darkly to himself—but when LP spoke, he sounded just as dopey and clueless as ever. 

“Didya drop somethin’, DW?” _Dammit, right when he thought he’d gotten through to the guy._

“Just my dignity…” DW scowled, rolling his eyes at the floor that his beak was nearly touching. Then he ran a hand under his tail, mussing the feathers, making sure that they were all out of place and parted so that he was exposing himself in the most _indecent_ of ways. 

_Oh dear, it would be such a **shame** if LP could see something naughty, like something under his tail that's usually hidden by his feathery coat..._

There was silence for a couple of beats. _See something you like, LP?_ And he wiggled his ass and tail AGAIN to ensure LP couldn’t help but take a long, good look. _He was basically GIFT-WRAPPING himself. Come on!_

Nothing. Then, “Sure ya didn’t drop somethin’, DW? I could help ya look…”

_Oh my GOD._ Drake’s heart was beating wildly, and he could feel a trickle of sweat roll down his back, seeping into the fabric of his shirt. _How dense can you get???_

“I-I guess I must have dropped a contact lens, LP,” he muttered, his voice a little shaky at how hot he was getting.

“Whoa, didn’t know ya wore contacts, DW…” He sounded surprised, and his clueless, breathy words stunned Drake, making him almost choke on an excited moan.

“Oh, I don’t,” he muttered to himself, his face—and between his legs—getting hotter and hotter. “But maybe YOU should…” 

_God, he’s an IDIOT. An IDIOT!_ But Drake could barely contain his strong urge to fling off his clothing and tackle the big dummy, right here in their living room.

A bit later, Launchpad had gotten up to get something to drink, and Drake took the opportunity to lay down on the temporarily vacated couch. He spread his legs wide, and pulled off his sweater so he was wearing only his long salmon-colored button-up shirt. He pulled his shirt up towards his chest, bunching it in folds so that his stomach was exposed, which only drew more attention to his normally bare lower half. Again, he pulled and ruffled the feathers around his tailhole, exposing the inviting pink flesh, making doubly sure he’d be giving his big dumb pilot a good eyeful of what he _COULD_ be fucking right about now.

LP came back in the living room and froze right in front of the couch, just staring at Drake, the ice in his glass rattling a little as he held it. Drake hummed and squirmed around on the couch, spreading his legs even wider. He could feel the air tickling his exposed entrance as he shot LP a sultry stare. 

_Come over here and fill me up, big guy. Surely THIS is fucking obvious, right?_

With a sudden determined look, LP rushed forward, and Drake’s heart started racing. _Oooh shit, was he finally gonna get that good, hard pounding he’d been wanting so badly?_

Setting his glass aside, LP grabbed Drake’s legs roughly, and the smaller duck’s skin burned where LP was grasping at them. _Come on, spread me even wider, and really make me scream,_ Drake pleaded internally.

But his pleas went unheeded. “Yer takin’ up the whole couch, DW,” Launchpad said admonishingly, shaking his head. And then he just lifted up Drake’s legs, and sat down underneath them, letting them fall unceremoniously onto his lap with a plop. 

Drake was cringing in disbelief. _REALLY?!!!_

After a few moments, Launchpad glanced down at him, with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Hey, uh, why’s yer shirt all bunched up like that, DW?” And before Drake could quip, _Why do ya think?_ LP slowly and agonizingly rubbed one giant hand down Drake’s front, smoothing the rumpled fabric and making Drake moan in ecstasy at his touch. 

_Oh God, rub me lower,_ he thought imploringly, brain fogging over with lust, but LP just ended the petting by giving him a couple of belly pats. Then, grabbing his glass again, the oblivious pilot just sipped his drink and went back to watching TV.

Staring at the ceiling, his legs still draped over LP’s lap, Drake was panting and pouting all at the same time. _This idiot was driving him absolutely CRAZY!_

Startling LP somewhat, he quickly and suddenly leapt off the couch. Glaring at Launchpad, who only raised an eyebrow at him— _annoyingly, the big idiot didn’t seem to have a CLUE why Drake was a little miffed_ —he then headed to their bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went upstairs. Flinging off the garment, he swiftly climbed into bed and called for Launchpad. 

_Surely, him being naked and in bed would make it CLEAR what he wanted, right? Which was a good roll in the hay? And NOT ACTUAL HAY, you GOOF._ Drake was getting to the point where he couldn’t take this torturous game anymore.

“Ya need me for somethin’, DW?” Launchpad appeared in the doorway. “Oh, whoops, didn’t know you were boutta take a nap.” 

_Um, I called YOU, LP, so there’s no need to apologize. Unless you want to say sorry for all the damn torture you’re putting me through._ Drake just stared at him in disbelief, the sheets pooled around his groin. _Also, since when did he or LP EVER take naps naked?_

_But he couldn’t give up yet!_ “Wanna take a 'nap' with me, big guy?” Drake pulled down the edge of the sheet so that LP could get in easily, and also to let him see that Drake wasn’t wearing a stitch under all these covers. _Take in the scenery, you big lug, and then take **me** , if you know what’s good for you._

But all of that only earned him a blank stare. “Nah, it’ll mess up my sleep schedule,” Launchpad shrugged, and looked like he was about to turn to leave.

Drake, leaping from the bed, bolted to the doorway, and grabbed one of his big pilot’s massive hands. “Oh _NO_ , you **_DON’T!_** Not this time! Get your ass over here!” He then tried in vain to pull LP over towards the bed, but it was like trying to move a 60-ton tank, and he couldn’t budge him an inch.

LP looked down at him as he was straining to pull him further into the bedroom. “But DW…” Then he finally seemed to notice Drake’s state of undress—i.e., buck-ass NAKED—and there was the faintest hint of a blush on his beak. 

“Hey, uh…why are ya in yer birthday suit, DW?”

Drake wanted to clap a hand to his face in frustration, but God _dammit,_ if that dopey look didn’t make him want to jump this idiot like no one’s business. _Oooh, if he kept this up, they might not even make it to the bed…_

“Do I REALLY have to explain it? Take off your clothes, NOW!” _Can’t you see I want a big, fat piece of YOU, you big idiot?_

“But I’m not about to take a shower or anything, DW. I already did, earlier.” _What the HELL was all this about showers?_ Drake looked up at him in confusion.

Then, a beat. “Wait, are YOU?” Launchpad was looking him up and down, and pointed toward the bathroom, as if Drake needed to be reminded of where their shower was.

_REALLY?!?!?_ Drake was about to _DIE._ _He needed this dumbass inside him, NOW!_

“ _NOOOOO,_ LP! ANYWAY, what you’re about to do, you won’t have any need for your clothes,” he said, tugging insistently at his pilot’s shirt and shorts, which were irritatingly still on his body. Miraculously, LP was now allowing himself to be tugged further into the bedroom now, and he paused in front of the bed.

“Wait…what am I about to do, again?” He slowly shrugged out of his soft little shorts, and sat down on the bed, looking over at Drake with that _perfect_ idiotic expression.

_Two plus two equals we are about to start FUCKING, LP!_ Drake wanted to scream, but despite his frustration, his skin felt like it was on fire. _Holy shit, he couldn’t POSSIBLY sit on that cock fast enough._

“It’s more like _WHO_ you’re about to do, LP,” he said, wiggling his hips as he planted his hands on either side of LP’s lap, ready to climb on.

“I’m gonna do…. _YOU?”_ LP looked like he was lost in confusion, as if he didn’t understand, you know, _WORDS._ Drake was exasperated beyond belief, but that feeling didn’t even compare to the way his heart was surging, like he had been hit by dozens of Cupid’s arrows— _the_ _smug, cruel, angelic bastard._

“Uh huh, NOW you’re getting it,” Drake purred, nodding almost mockingly. “And now you’re gonna ‘GET’ it in more ways than one.” With that, he gave the silly pilot a long, wet kiss and straddled him, more than ready to ride his big dumb idiot so, so _hard._ Time to find out if that old cliché of breaking the bed was possible. Given how crazy LP had made him, it _might be._

Half an hour later, they were sweaty and panting, both slowly coming down from the blissful, delicious high of coming, _hard._

LP laid back against the pillow, wiping the sweat from his brow, and smiled over at Drake, whose chest was still heaving from all of the strenuous effort. 

“Oh, I get whatcha were drivin’ at, DW. So, all day, you’ve just been wantin’ to have sex. Why didn’t ya just ask?”

Drake violently facepalmed, yet there was that familiar, naughty tingle between his legs that he always felt when Launchpad was being obtuse. “But I **_HAVE_** BEEN…”

“Gee, well, ya sure don’t make it too easy to tell, DW.” Drake just glowered over at the big idiot beside him. “Ya just gotta say, ‘Let’s go upstairs and have some sex.’ That’s it,” he said, and turned and started kissing up and down Drake’s neck.

“I’m pretty much always game, too…” He whispered, grabbing a good handful of Drake’s ass, eliciting an excited whine and sending a shiver down his spine.

Before he could get too distracted, Drake retorted indignantly, “I’m not just gonna ASK! It’s called _SEDUCTION,_ LP!” But despite his protests, he was starting to feel dizzy from LP’s hot kisses to his neck and that naughty hand as it petted—and _ooh—_ kneaded his rear. Desire was crackling like electricity at the base of his spine, and he felt a renewed need to get filled up again with what only his pilot could give him.

“Se-what?” Launchpad lifted his face up from where he was kissing and nibbling at Drake’s neck and stared down at him with a completely blank, vacuous expression. 

_Of-FUCKING-course, LP **LITERALLY** didn’t know the meaning of the word. _

_Oh my GOOOOODDDD,_ Drake thought, incredulous and exasperated, but as he expected, a scorching hot, brand-new fire had just been lit between his thighs. _Mmmm, maybe it’s about time for Round Two,_ he mused, and gently pushing LP—who was being strangely _compliant_ this time—over onto his back, he eagerly straddled him again. And as he knew it would be, the sex was _delicious._

\--

The next time he decided to initiate a good round of lovemaking, Drake decided to try the direct approach, as LP suggested. All it took was for him to grab the big lug by the scarf and growl at him, “Get your ass upstairs—we’re having sex. NOW!” And the big dummy’s face got all red, but he nodded, simply saying, “Okay!” No confusion or idiotic looks whatsoever.

As always, getting his ass pounded felt amazingly good, but Drake would be lying if he said he didn’t miss those looks of confusion or outright dopiness on LP’s face when he tried to drop him sexy little hints. So, Drake decided he would go back to his preferred method of being as “vague” as possible—even though it’d be fucking _obvious_ to anyone else. Maybe next time, he’d send his pilot a naughty pic on his phone, or maybe appear in front of him as Darkwing, wearing just his hat and cape—and _nothing else—,_ or maybe he’d go the dirty food route again and suggestively eat one of those long, red, phallic-looking popsicles. 

_LP was sure not to get ANY of that,_ he mused, his face and his groin burning with desire at the thought. Hell, he’d probably have to shove his face in LP’s crotch before the idiot would get the idea that Drake wanted to go down on him. And maybe even THEN, he _STILL_ wouldn’t get it. _Ooh shiiit,_ he was already feeling that familiar heat warming up his loins as he thought about these lewd and utterly _ludicrous_ possibilities. 

_God, he loved that idiot._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe LP knows a little more about Drake's kink than we thought...

It was a few weeks later, smack dab in the middle of summer. Gosalyn was at a sleepaway camp, so it was just Drake and Launchpad alone for a week, which spelled trouble of the _dirtiest_ kind. One afternoon, Launchpad ambled into the kitchen and his jaw about hit the floor when he saw Drake. He was wearing that cute little apron he sometimes wore when he cleaned up around the house. The difference was, he was wearing that, and ONLY that. Launchpad was about to break the land speed record wanting to tackle the little flirt. But he knew that DW only got progressively hotter and more and more bothered if he played dumb, so he resisted his overwhelming instinct to just jump DW right on the spot.

“Oh, hey, DW, what happened to your shirt?” He asked innocently. “Doin’ laundry today?” 

Drake turned, and sure enough, he was narrowing his eyes up at Launchpad, shaking his head at him as if to say _I don’t BELIEVE how idiotic you are,_ but blushing like all get-out.

“That’s not ALL I hope to do, LP,” he said, and bent seductively over the countertop. The sexy curve of his cute, plump little ass and the wagging of his adorable little tail had Launchpad’s mind reeling and his dick twitching. 

_Not yet, McQuack_ , he told himself. _Make him work for it._

He shrugged, as if the swaying of that naughty little bottom didn’t have him in outer space right now. “Oh, I guess there are some other chores that need doin’, too, right DW? I gotta do an oil change on our car, for one.” 

Glancing up at Launchpad over his shoulder, Drake looked frustrated, but he was starting to pant and based on that sexy half-lidded stare, it was a sure sign he was horny as _fuck._

“Maybe you could tune _me_ up too?” The way his arms were stretched over the countertop made it look like it’d be so damn easy to lift him up by those sweet thighs and just go insane, pounding the shit out of him as he was propped up against the edge. Drake’s unwavering, sizzling hot glare over his shoulder shot a torturous heat that burned like hot coals between Launchpad’s legs, urging him to close the distance between them. _It was only a couple of feet. It would take all of two seconds._

Launchpad gulped and tried to steel his resolve. _No, ya gotta resist it!_

“You could, you know, look under _my_ hood?” Drake purred, and it might have been Launchpad’s imagination, but the way his fluffy tail was swaying, it looked like it was _BECKONING_ Launchpad over. Even his damn apron ribbons were fluttering teasingly and his ass was even further up in the air, wiggling coquettishly with the feathers under his tail parted _just_ enough that—for a tiny second, _blink and you’d miss it_ —Launchpad thought he might have caught a naughty peek of his little pink hole.

_Holy goddamn SHIT_. 

Launchpad’s heart skipped a few beats and his mouth went completely dry. The heat in his groin was reaching a fever pitch. 

_Alright, alright,_ Launchpad gulped, trying to compose himself. _Calm down. Ya gotta pretend ya don’t get what he’s talkin’ about. Even though ya do and it’s fuckin’ torture._

“But yer not a car, DW…” he then said as dopily as possible, and DW’s breath hitched hard, and he let out a mewling little whimper that was pure honey to his ears. 

_Mm-hmm, this is the good shit ya hold off for._

“Nooooo,” Drake then said, lustful eyes scorching him alive, “but I have something ELSE I’d _loooooove_ to ride.” He was now rolling his hips, and Launchpad was just dying to untie those little apron ribbons. Feeling sweat trickling down his back, he raked his eyes downward and caught another flash of that blushy pink hole that was just _BEGGING_ to be filled with a good, juicy helping of cock. 

_Fuuuuuuuucckk_. Launchpad was about two seconds from dropping his pants and giving DW the hardest, wettest ride of his life. 

_No no no. Keep yer dick in yer pants, McQuack_. He needed to keep teasing him. It would pay off for sure, if he could just hold it together. _But damn was it **hard.**_

He tried to ignore how sweat was rolling down his face and he hoped that DW hadn’t noticed it. “Well, I guess while I work on the car, there’s always the Ratcatcher if ya need a ride, DW,” he said, making a point to scratch his head, as if in thought. 

Drake was sighing and rolling his eyes but blushing like mad, squeezing those tempting, creamy white thighs together and rubbing himself up against the counter. Launchpad gritted his teeth at the sight. 

_Hold it together_ , he reminded himself. _But God damn, look at him…!_

“H-honest, DW, the oil change won’t take long,” he muttered, hoping the timbre of his voice didn’t betray how turned on he was. “Ya really gotta be more patient.” Drake was gripping the edges of the counter now, knuckles white as he glared up at Launchpad, eyes dark with lust.

“You have no clue how _patient_ I’ve been, LP,” he growled, practically grinding himself against the counter, occasionally letting out the dirtiest moans that made LP’s pants so tight it was getting uncomfortable. And _increasingly_ hard to hide. 

“Ya okay there, DW? Looks like ya got a mighty itch.” That remark must have thoroughly shocked him, because DW stopped his rubbing and turned around to scowl up at the pilot, pulling at his cheek feathers in frustration, but Launchpad noted how his eyes were dilated and slightly crossed with arousal, and not to mention that under his little apron there was a telltale bulge he was squeezing by pressing his knees together. 

_Damn, it’d be so easy to just lift up that little garment and make a sloppy mess of him…_

“Well, there’s something upstairs that could scratch it for me, LP. Wanna go see what it is?” And DW eagerly took Launchpad’s hand and led him toward the stairs. Launchpad let himself be dragged along and allowed himself to ogle Drake’s swaying ass as he went up the stairs behind him, drooling as the feathers sometimes fluttered, betraying that sweet little hole _._

_Mmm, I’m gonna pound that so hard,_ he thought, licking his lips with lust while Drake was turned away and couldn’t see his expression. When Drake would glance back at him, eyes dark, Launchpad would immediately give him a vacant stare, which made Drake drool in turn.

“Ya need me to help ya scratch an itch for ya? How in the heck can I help?” He asked innocently, and Drake pushed him roughly into their bedroom. Launchpad let himself be pushed, and was now standing by the edge of the bed. 

“Well, _one way_ is for you to take off your pants and lay your ass down on the bed.” The light from the hallway was backlighting Drake, whose face was in shadows, making his hungry look seem even more dangerous. 

“How can _that_ help? Ohhhh, wait…ya don’t _really_ have an itch, do ya DW?” Launchpad then dropped his pants, probably a little too quickly, maybe, but DW was so distracted by his own arousal he didn’t seem to notice how eager he was. 

Launchpad quickly sat down on the bed. “Ya brought me in here for somethin’ else, huh?” He pretended to be massively confused. He crossed his legs to appear nonchalant about the whole thing, but he really just needed a way to hide his massive erection.

“You’re such an idiot, LP,” Drake said, palming himself through the front of his itty bitty apron, making Launchpad drool even more than he already was. “ _Of course_ it’s something else!”

“Then what is it? What’s goin’ on?” He cocked his head to the side to better show his ‘confusion.’ 

DW bit his lip as Launchpad said this, probably amazed at how dense Launchpad was being —or was pretending to be—, and reached under his apron, rubbing himself frantically. The front of the little frilly garment was fluttering wildly as he jerked himself. 

Launchpad gulped, trying desperately to contain his excitement. _Hot damn, what a snack. It was almost time to finally chow down._

“Well, lemme break it down for you—first, I’m going to get on your lap, LP…” Drake murmured, his voice so silky it reminded Launchpad of the feel of that naughty tongue sometimes as it licked up his shaft.

_“Okaay?”_ Launchpad said with a questioning lilt at the end, as if he had no clue what was going on, and Drake’s eyes now looked downright predatory with lust.

“And then I’m gonna straddle you,” he whispered, taking a step closer, so now he was only a couple inches away. The air between them was so charged that Launchpad imagined that he could feel hot sparks of electricity arcing off of him.

“Uhh, okay…” He said in an uncertain tone, even though the one thing he actually _WAS_ certain of was the fact that his throbbing, aching cock was about two minutes from being buried to the hilt, pumping deep in that pert little ass. Flushed and quivering in front of him, DW looked like he was sweating, and his feathers were fluffing up in excitement.

“And I am gonna ride that fat cock _so long and hard_ we’ll wear out the bedsprings _looooong before_ I get done with you,” he growled, fingers raking across Launchpad’s broad chest. Launchpad's cock, which was pulsing with hot desire, was more than ready for DW to make good on that promise, precum dribbling down his shaft, making him good and slippery.

_“Ohhhhhh,_ are we gonna have sex, DW?” He asked purposefully dopily, as if it had finally dawned on him, and by now it was clear that this was the **Final Straw.**

DW’s eyes were like big watery saucers, and he looked so confused and disbelieving at Launchpad’s words that one of his eyes was twitching. If he had been able to say anything, he might have said something like, “How are you such a damn _IDIOT,_ LP?!” 

But he was so floored he was speechless, mouth gaping and clearly drooling, and blushing so hard even his bare shoulders were red. And his little body was just trembling. 

_Oh, this is gonna be so damn tasty._ Barely suppressing a lecherous grin, Launchpad finally uncrossed his legs, letting his erection bounce free.

In what seemed like half a millisecond, Drake flung off his apron and tackled him so hard Launchpad fell backwards onto the bed. 

“ _Fuck_ , I want you so _BAD…_ ” Drake gasped out between hot, wet, desperate kisses. His lips were so electrifying that Launchpad’s head was spinning, and he was finding it hard to keep up with his wild kissing. “You drive me so insane…”

And in a few short moments, Drake was humping him like crazy, his ass squeezing and pressing against LP’s straining erection. Launchpad was groaning at how Drake’s tight little hole would spread just a bit, allowing the head of his cock to slip _maaaybe_ a quarter of an inch inside his hot channel, then he’d slip out, and teasingly end up rubbing between the cleft of his soft ass cheeks. _Damn, this was the best kind of torture…_

Somehow, Drake suddenly had lube in his hand, and reached back behind him, coating Launchpad’s shaft with big globs of slick, and hiking his ass in the air, started lubing and fingering his ass in preparation for something a lot bigger.

“Unnnhhhh,” he moaned, adding another slick finger, fucking himself wildly, and Launchpad bit his lip at how deliciously hot he looked, going to town on his own asshole. Then he pulled his fingers out with a wet, suction-y sound, and gritting his teeth— _no doubt at what he was about to do_ —, sat down ALL AT ONCE on Launchpad’s waiting, twitching cock.

It was Launchpad’s turn to moan loudly as Drake took his whole throbbing length in one quick slide.

“G-god _DAMN,_ DW,” he panted. _Fuck, he feels so good, all hot and wet._

But before he could think about that too long, Drake was wildly bouncing on his cock, riding so roughly and desperately Launchpad thought Drake might leave an ass print-shaped bruise on his battered thighs. _Not that he minded,_ he thought lustily, as he watched DW, panting and wailing, completely abuse his lap, ass cheeks slapping loudly as he slid up and down his hard, slippery wet length. Drake’s hot, wet, pulsing hole was squeezing so tightly and sinfully around his shaft Launchpad thought his hero might NEVER let him go, and—his eyes starting to cross from the silky feel of Drake’s tight hot walls—he was okay with that, too.

He grasped Drake’s little hips, caressing his skin and ruffled feathers as his hero rode him, slowly petting his chest, and gliding his hands down his arms, he eventually intertwined his fingers with Drake’s tiny ones. Drake paused his passionately torturous ride, and simply held one of Launchpad’s hands up to his face, sweetly nuzzling it, giving Launchpad such an adoring look the pilot couldn’t help but blush.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to embrace him, Launchpad sat up and leaned against the pillows, feeling himself slowly slip out of Drake, which elicited a soft, dirty whimper from the smaller duck, who found himself suddenly empty. Launchpad pulled his partner close, cuddling him, and proceeded to kiss his neck, feeling him flush. He tenderly held Drake on his lap for a while, and they kissed for several long moments, sweet and sensually at times and hot and passionately in others. Eventually their kissing reached a fever pitch, because Launchpad started to notice that they were rubbing against each other again, eager for some more of that good, naughty contact.

All the while petting and occasionally squeezing him in all sorts of naughty places, Launchpad nibbled and kissed up Drake’s neck. 

“Lemme make you come…” he whispered in his ear, and he felt his blushing hero shudder against his chest.

And with that, he pushed Drake flat on his back against the mattress, and with his knee, gently spread Drake’s trembling legs apart. Drake was panting in excitement, his erection blushing against the white of his feathers. He was shooting LP an insistent, impatient but sultry stare that could only mean:

_Fuck me. Hurry up and FUCK ME._

He put it to words. “Give it to me,” he murmured, his voice alluring and velvety. Launchpad was getting lost in that hot, half-lidded stare, but Drake’s legs wrapping tighter and tighter around his waist was a good reminder—no, a _DEMAND_ —that he focus on the task at hand, which of course was getting back between those tempting, waiting thighs.

Snapping back to reality, Launchpad roughly grasped Drake’s legs, hiking them further up to get that perfect angle, and pressed himself up to Drake’s wet little hole, which quivered in anticipation of more erotic contact.

Then he slowly pushed in, encouraged all the while by Drake squeezing his legs around his hips and his soft moans of pleasure as he pressed inside. Fully seated inside Drake’s lush wet channel, he started to pull out _slooooowly,_ the lube and his own slick making a dirty, slurping sound.

“Oooh,” Drake breathed, squirming and squeezing his hole deliciously tight as Launchpad languidly slid back and forth, sometimes almost slipping out on the pull-out. He pumped in and out lazily like this for a few moments, but the building red-hot desire and the slow pace was becoming torturous for them both.

Drake looked like he was about to urge the pilot to go faster, but Launchpad had the same idea, and suddenly began a brutal pace, slamming into Drake so hard his eyes were crossing and tears were even forming at the corners due to Launchpad's ragged, frenzied thrusting. But even with all the roughness, Drake looked so dopily happy, blushing from head to toe and drooling as Launchpad gave him the hardest, deepest dicking he could muster. He knew that DW loved a good, rough fuck and that was exactly what he was gonna get.

Not that Launchpad didn’t enjoy it, too. On the contrary, it felt so damn _good_ he had to force himself to think a couple times about something wholly unrelated to how he was pounding the absolute shit out of his hot little hero’s ass right now, otherwise he’d have lost it once or twice already and pumped him full of cum way too damn early. He preferred to make his partner come first, and he was determined to do just that.

But the silky feel of Drake’s hot, wet little hole gripping him so sinfully as he slid in and out was making his toes curl, though. And God _damn,_ the sounds didn’t help either. Not only was Drake just moaning and yelping so loudly and indecently underneath him, the sound of their fucking itself was utterly obscene: there were slippery, squelching and rhythmic gushing noises as his slick wet cock fucked deep in Drake’s hot, sopping hole, and the sounds of the lube mixed with his own slick just squished and smacked loudly, and he could feel it sloppily sloshing and oozing out as the pair thunderously rolled against each other.

Trying his best to ignore those tantalizingly dirty, gushy noises, Launchpad began aiming his thrusts in a very particular way, and pretty soon he zeroed in on what he was looking for, because Drake started shrieking in ecstasy.

“F-fuck!! Oh Gooooooodd, _LAUNCHPAD,_ ooh, FUCK ME, _FUCK ME!”_ He wailed, thrashing wildly below Launchpad’s heaving chest and endlessly pumping hips. Drake seemed to be trying to squeeze him SOMEHOW even deeper into him by clamping his legs around Launchpad’s waist, tight as a vise. Both of them were going so rough they were losing a few feathers in the process.

“Aaahhh, ooooooohHH, _FUCK!!”_ Drake was almost _screaming_ in pleasure, and though Launchpad flushed with some pride at how he was making him yelp like that, he was glad that their daughter was away. But he felt a little sheepish because the neighbors definitely _weren’t_. _Oh well,_ he thought. By this point they’d probably already heard plenty, so Launchpad resigned himself to a few raised eyebrows if he happened to meet them over the next few days. He could already imagine Mrs. Muddlefoot from next door dropping some hints at how she knew what they’d been up to. 

_But hey, Drake was a screamer, what could he say. And when they got between the sheets, they burned ‘em up real good._

That fire lit in their bed was raging now, because now Drake really WAS screaming as Launchpad pounded his sweet spot relentlessly, over and over. Drake was violently trembling below him, his hole hotly pulsing around the rhythmic thrusts of Launchpad's thick, hard cock. Drake was throwing his head back in ragged pleasure, panting roughly between loud wails. He was in such a state that Launchpad wondered briefly if he’d teased him too long before, because he was a writhing _mess_ now, practically sobbing as he fucked in and out of him. 

But the sobs turned to strangled yelps and once again to all-out lusty screams again as Drake started to come. He didn’t even have to jerk himself once to orgasm, maybe because he was rattled by all the teasing, or maybe it was because of the nasty sounds of their loud, sloppy fucking. Or maybe still, it was because of the good old-fashioned thrill of being fucked _senseless._

In any case, as he yelped out his orgasm, his hot puddles of cum coated both their bellies, and that sensation combined with seeing Drake so ruffled, drool dripping from his beak and his little body with its feathers soaked in cum sent Launchpad quickly over the edge too. For several nerve-melting seconds, he drilled Drake’s ass rapid-fire until he was spent too, pumping spurt after hot spurt of thick, juicy cum deep in Drake’s silky wet heat. Drake moaned softly as Launchpad continued fucking him, slower and slower, cum squishing out of his hole between thrusts. 

The waves of his orgasm started to fade, and Launchpad felt himself start to soften, so he moved to pull out, but Drake kept his legs clamped around his waist, and even squeezed them tighter.

“Stay inside me,” he ordered in an insistent whisper, and Launchpad was about to protest, but seeing Drake all debauched and sexy with that lusty glare anchored him to the spot. So instead of rolling off him, he stayed put, but bent down and started kissing Drake all over.

“Pretty soon I’m gonna slip out, DW,” he murmured against Drake’s flushed skin, warning his little lover of the inevitable.

“Oh no, you won’t,” Drake said darkly. “I’ll get you hard again soon enough…” At this, Launchpad felt excited chills run down his spine. _It looked like there wasn’t gonna be just one round of fucking tonight._

Briefly considering how damn exhausted he was going to be, Launchpad thought, _Aw shit, maybe he DID tease him too long._ Something told him that he was gonna be sporting some pretty sore abs and maybe even a bruised pelvis by the next morning. But leering down at where he was spearing DW—and sure enough, like DW had promised, the little flirt was making him harder again already—the pilot knew that Drake's little ass would surely be wrecked by tomorrow, too. He’d pump him full of cum til he was milked dry, and maybe paint Drake’s sweet bottom cherry red with some well-deserved spanks. 

_Heh,_ he thought. _I’ll burn that little ass up two **different** ways…_

Seeing that Drake was getting hard again too, Launchpad also thought hungrily that maybe _somebody_ might be in for a good dick sucking, too.

Drake was gazing up at him with just as much crackling desire. _Who knew what kinds of nasty thoughts he was having..._ But, feeling mischievous, Launchpad thought he could still use a little more teasing. He bent down and kissed Drake again, and then he said:

“Ya know, today really is the best day for this kinda thing, DW,” he said, smiling down at his hero. “It’s Wednesday, after all.”

The lust-addled look faded from Drake’s face and now he just looked confused. “Wh-Huh?”

“It’s ‘Hump Day,’” Launchpad quipped, and rolled against him for good measure. Then he gave him his best dopey look. “That’s when yer supposed to have sex, right? It’s the law or somethin’.”

Drake’s eyes instantly narrowed and he had that familiar look of irritated exasperation, but based on the way his cheeks were reddening, and how Launchpad could feel his hot little hole twitching around his cock, he was getting _really_ turned on, too.

“I’m gonna kick you out of bed for that,” he growled, but did nothing of the sort. Instead he wrapped his lithe little legs even more insistently around Launchpad’s waist, and was now squeezing his ass cheeks and his hole around him so tight Launchpad was seeing stars.

But even without all the teasing hot squeezes around his shaft, DW was giving him such a smoldering, arrogant glare that Launchpad was at full attention now. 

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll _NEVER_ stop talking dumb to me…” Drake snarled, and Launchpad was drooling as his hero started rolling those hips again, spearing himself over and over on his hard, cum-slicked cock. 

_Aww fuck, this was feelin’ so damn good…_

Launchpad couldn’t help but start thrusting again, pumping hotly between those wet cheeks. “Uhh, I dunno what yer talkin’ about, DW,” he said, winking. 

But of course, right afterwards he gave him his best vacant look, the one that made DW squirm so much.

Just like he expected, Drake was now blushing like mad, and he grasped Launchpad around his neck and pulled him close, hungrily kissing him with that red-hot passion Launchpad couldn’t get enough of.

“I love you so much, you big idiot,” his hero whispered, sounding so tender and sweet.

He kissed Drake back with fervor. “I love you too, Drake.” He smiled and continued to give DW some more of that good, hot, _DUMB_ loving, all night long.


End file.
